I crushed the love I held in my hand;
I sought for a greater prize;
But when I had crushed it, then I found
That true love was in her eyes.
The cowslips in the valley seemed small and spare;
The violets were dim; the buttercups
Glowed with a faint, pale gold.
Upon the hillside, far afield, the flowers
Bloomed with a brighter light; the violets deepened
The purple hills; the bluets mirrored the sky;
The columbine burned a flame. I followed the lure
Of distant fields. I wanted the richer blooms.
No charms to hold me had those at my feet, no charms.
On I hurried and crushed them underfoot;
On I hurried to the farther hill;
But there I found the flowers not so bright;
Smaller they were and not so fine,
And quick the evening shadows folded round;
Too late it was to pluck the first scorned flowers
And home I went with empty hands.
I crushed the love I held in my hand;
I sought for a greater prize;
But when I had crushed it, then I found
That true love was in her eyes.